


fix me up, baby

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Paramedic, M/M, this is ridiculous and I am sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:15:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles dislocates his hip. Danny is the paramedic on call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fix me up, baby

**Author's Note:**

> this is completely and utterly ridiculous, and is about 2450% fluff. i am so sorry if you came here looking for a well thought-out fic, because i wrote this in about thirty minutes. 
> 
> i wrote this off a prompt i received on my tumblr "Danny/Stiles - paramedic!au" and it grew into this monster (it was only supposed to be 6 sentences long; where did i go wrong omfg)
> 
> anyway, i know absolutely nothing about how 911 calls work, and i have no idea if it is actually the paramedics who reset hips or if you have to go to a certified doctor for that, so this fic is probably wrong in medical practices and might make you wince. for that i apologize!

"911, what's your emergency?"

 

"Fuck," Stiles breathes, hands grasping at the place where his hips totally shouldn't be but are. "Fuck. I, uh, I think I broke my hips?" He sounds ridiculous, and he feels just as equally so, but there's a burning in his pelvis, now, and Scott isn't home to take him to the hospital--he has no other safe, unembarrassing options. This is his last resort. 

 

"You think you broke your hips?" She asks, disbelieving. Stiles doesn't blame her. He doesn't quite believe it himself.

 

"Yeah," Stiles says, breath hitching when he accidentally shifts against his couch.

 

"Okay," She replies, and then adds, "Is there anyone with you right now that can take you to the hospital?"

 

Stiles shakes his head, and then realizes that she's unable to see him. "No." He says. "I'm all alone."

 

"Okay, that's fine, don't worry," She says, hastily, and it sounds like she's reading from something, and Stiles has the fleeting, uncomfortable thought that she's probably new. "I can send an ambulance in route, if you can tell me your location."

 

Yeah, Stiles thinks, she's definitely new. He rattles off his location, voice too-loud and sharp even to his own ears, and hangs up on a promise that a team of paramedics is on their way and to move as little as possible until they get there.

 

Fantastic.

 

:::

 

There's a knock on his door not even ten minutes later, and Stiles is immediately glad that no one ever bothers to lock it all that much.

 

"In here," Stiles calls, and then winces. Ow, fuck.

 

The guy who walks in is not what he expects. He's tall, and has enough muscle mass on him for Stiles to faintly wonder if he can bench press a car without difficulty--he probably can, he looks like the type--he's painfully good-looking. And his shoulders fill out his uniform deliciously. If Stiles wasn't currently confined to a couch, immobile, he'd probably attempt to climb him. Violently.

 

The guy takes a look at him, and then takes a double-take, his ears and cheeks flushing a bright, gorgeous red. "Why are you naked?"

 

"What."

 

"You're naked," The guy says, and then points down.

 

Stiles looks, and feels the earth shatter around him and then fall to the pit of his stomach. Fuck.

 

"Oh," Stiles stammers, because he may have forgotten that important detail. "Right. I, uh, it's laundry day, and I fell down the stairs?"

 

The guy looks unimpressed.

 

"Your apartment is one-story." 

 

"The washers and dryers are downstairs," Stiles retorts, and then ignores how the guy is looking at his in-home unit right behind him.

 

Whatever, Stiles is in pain. Deliriousness is expected, right?

 

"Can we--just, get to the matter at hand, here, please? I'm in a lot of pain, dude."

 

"Right," The guy says, and visibly shakes himself. "You think you broke your hip."

 

"Yeah," Stiles says, and then waves in the direction of them. "They don't look right, and they hurt, man, like, a lot. More than a lot, probably. I think I'm experiencing child-birth. Through my hips."

 

"I think you're lacking some important equipment, though," The guy quips, and then kneels in front of Stiles with the bag he brought in.

 

"I'm not _lacking anything_ ," Stiles replies, petulantly, and it makes the guy dimple at him.

 

Fuck, Stiles really wants to climb him, and now.

 

:::

 

"I'm Stiles, by the way," Stiles offers, because the guy's hands are dangerously close to the towel covering his dick, and he can feel it twitch whenever his fingers brush against his skin. 

 

"Danny," The guy replies, and ducks his head on a smile.

 

Stiles blames the pain for how much he wants to lick every inch of him.

 

:::

 

"Your hips are dislocated," Danny says, a few (long) minutes later.

 

"What."

 

"Dislocated," He confirms, with a nod of his head. Stiles totally does not find it adorable--okay, he so does, but Danny is a pretty fucking adorable guy, and in the ten minutes that Stiles has known him, he's quickly come to realize that he's probably going to find everything Danny does to be endearing. 

 

"Oh," Stiles says, and feels a flood of relief.

 

"I'm going to have to pop them back into place."

 

Stiles stiffens, and hisses at the twinge of pain the action causes. Danny slaps his thigh in disapproval. Stiles is pretty sure he hears the man tsk. 

 

"Stop that," Danny admonishes. "You're only going to make it worse."

 

"This is already the most mortifying moment of my life," Stiles says, because it is, and he's so going to blog about this later. Anonymously. On a screened IP address. "I don't think it can get much worse by me accidentally breaking my already dislocated hips."

 

"Shut up," Danny says, "And let me do my job."

 

:::

 

Of course, because that's his life, as soon as Danny pops them back into place, and a fire-hot, all-encompassing pain travels up his spine, Scott walks in the apartment. With Chinese. That he drops all over the floor.

 

"Dude!" Scott hisses, covering his eyes, and trips over the dropped noodles. "We have a rule! Sock on door. _Sock. On. Door._ "

 

"It's not what it looks like," Stiles says, once the pain has faded; his cheeks are burning a violent crimson color, and the only thing that makes him feel better about it is that he's pretty sure Danny's (impossibly) more red.

 

:::

 

"Just keep off it as much as you can over the next  few days," Danny says, when everything has calmed down a little bit, and Scott has stopped looking at them like they personally shoved his puppy into a fire and danced on it's ashes.

 

"That won't be too difficult," Stiles smirks, and thinks about all of the awesome video game sessions that fade into jerk-off sessions that he can have. 

 

"You'll probably want to still go to a doctor, just to make sure everything's good," he adds on, packing up his supplies.

 

"Ay-ay, Captain," Stiles salutes.

 

:::

 

Danny's at the door, when he turns around and fixes Stiles with a look. "Can I ask you something?"

 

Stiles blinks. "Uh," he licks his lips, nervously. When people want to ask him things, it's usually a bad sign. "Sure."

 

"How did you really dislocate your hip?"

 

Before Stiles can answer, Scott bounds into the room with a vicious grin on his face. Stiles' stomach sinks. Shit. "Sex."

 

Stiles flails. "Totally not true. Don't listen to him. He's a heathen."

 

Scott turns to his phone, no doubt pulling up the texts Stiles sent to him in a blind panic.

 

  **To: Scott** 2:23 P.M. _  
_

_DUDE. I JUST SAW JESUS_

****_  
_

__

__

**To: Scott** 2:25 P.M.

_SCOTT I BROKE MY HIP_

**To: Scott** 2:27 P.M.

_trevor just left in a blind panic and won't return my post-booty call calls pls send help_

**To: Scott** 2:30 P.M.

_if you're boning allison right now instead of reading my texts i will maim you with a spoon, buddy_

**To: Scott** 2:33 P.M. 

_scott_

Danny's laughter is so loud that Stiles can still hear it, clear and addicting and beautiful, even when he shoves Scott into a wall and covers his ears with a pillow.

 

:::

 

"Don't worry about it," Danny smiles, when Scott is out of earshot. "We get these kinds of calls all of the time."

 

Stiles raises an eyebrow, dubious. "You do?"

 

Danny nods, and slaps Stiles on the shoulder. "You're a little bit younger than our usual caller, but you're not alone."

 

Stiles is so busy sputtering in that he doesn't catch the wink Danny sends his way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> did i mention this was ridiculous? cause, yeah, totes ridiculous.
> 
> follow me on [tumblr!](http://ocrien.tumblr.com/)


End file.
